


The Prophet Beyonce

by sweetNsimple



Series: Adult Adoptions [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult Adoption, Alternate Universe, Because of Timeline, Clint Barton Must Prove Himself, Clint Barton Wants to Put a Ring On It, M/M, Pre-Relationship, The Greatest Dad Can Be Found Here, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark is a good son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a well-known fact at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and at several of their on and offshore bases that Clinton “Clint” Francis Barton wanted a long-term, To-the-Grave relationship with one Agent Phillip J. Coulson, left-hand man of Director Nicholas Fury, and the most dangerously competent man in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prophet Beyonce

It was a well-known fact at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and at several of their on and offshore bases that Clinton “Clint” Francis Barton wanted a long-term, To-the-Grave relationship with one Agent Phillip J. Coulson, left-hand man of Director Nicholas Fury, and the most dangerously competent man in the world.

 

Everyone knew. Even Phil knew that Clint wanted to jump him _and_ , in Beyonce's famous words, put a ring on it. Clint wanted that, wanted _him_ for his own, wanted that fiercely loyal, fiercely faithful man in his bed, at his side, on his lips, in his body, around his body, on his mind, to have Clint on his mind – he wanted them to be obsessed with each other, to have each other in every way, and he wanted it like a man dying in the desert wanted water.

 

Phil had been courteous and kind as he let Clint down continuously and seemingly endlessly the first two years, three and half years after they had first met. He never lost this patience with Clint or treated him differently, never mocked him behind his back for never giving up and never lost confidence in Clint and his ability to be a friend, an ally, and an asset, on and off the field.

 

Other agents, usually green behind the ears, liked to joke about how Clint was so far in the friendzone, he was making friendship bracelets from his tears.

 

Clint didn't believe in the friendzone. He didn't believe that Phil owed him a date, or sex, or anything. If Phil didn't want them to have that kind of relationship, then Clint was willing to take whatever was left. Being friends hurt, yeah, _Hell yeah_ , but it was easier than completely blocking Phil out.

 

Three years, and Clint stopped asking. It wasn't that he had given up, because he absolutely had _not_ , but because he was trying to figure out _why_.

 

Phil never really gave him a reason. He just thanked him, gently rejected him, and then moved on. He didn't owe Clint a reason, but not knowing was still driving him batshit crazy.

 

He bet that, if he could find out why Phil didn't want to date him, he could change Phil's mind. Maybe. Hopefully.

 

Well, it wouldn't hurt to _try_.

 

“D'you know anythin' 'bout it?” Clint asked Tony. The Stark was sitting next to him, bloodied and bruised, staring blankly back at him.

 

“I know a little something,” he rasped. “But would you like to know something even better?”

 

Clint gave him a weary look.

 

“I think you're concussed and that three of your ribs are bruised. I also think that I have no money, no I.D., no _technology_ , and we're stuck in the middle of goddamned China Town where no one will even let us borrow their phone for one goddamned minute. Oh, and, also, I can't see out of my right eye, there's blood in my right shoe for reasons I dare not think too hard about, the casing on my arc reactor is cracked, and you're trying to get me to tell you how to woo Agent Agent.”

 

Tony took a deep breath. Then, mercifully, “And, on top of _that_ , you saved me from the Sun Yee On, being sold on the black market, managed to get us to _relative_ safety, and all without breaking a sweat. I'm impressed by you, I really am.”

 

Clint snorted, then winced when that pulled at his ribs. “I'm no Stark.”

 

“You're not,” Tony immediately agreed. “But I think you're just fine the way you are, so I'll help you. I'll put in a good worth with dear old Agent Agent and we'll see what he wants from there.”

 

Clint winced again, but this time had nothing to do with his ribs. He wasn't one hundred percent certain about it, but he thought that Tony talking to Phil might be a bad idea. He had never actually seen Phil and Tony interact, though Fury had Phil assigned as the liaison between Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D., but he was under the impression that they didn't _like_ each other.

 

“You sure 'bout that?” he asked.

 

Tony grinned at him, teeth bloody and bottom lip split. “Oh, yeah, Legolas. Trust me, it's for your own good. Now, let's find someone who'll let us borrow a land line and get the Hell out of here while we've still got kidneys.”

 

~::~

 

Clint pushed the incident out of his mind. He didn't honestly think Tony could help the situation. Phil actually liked Clint, and had for nearly five years. Tony?   
  


Clint thought the two had only known each other as far back as a year ago. And had very limited contact.

 

It was with those beliefs that he reported to Phil's office the following Monday and prepared to debrief about what was now officially termed the 'Chinatown incident'.

 

Except, as he stood in front of Phil's desk, the older man simply took a manilla folder out of one of his desk drawers and handed it to him, eyes on him the entire time.

 

“Read this, if you would, Clint,” Phil said, and the fact that he used Clint's first name on the job made a shiver run down his spine.

 

He sat down and pulled out several documents. For a long while, he just stared at them, trying to figure out what it all meant. They were... adoption papers. Aged slightly, but obviously well preserved. A date in the bottom corner on the front page across from Phil's signature told Clint that these papers had existed for nearly fifteen years.

 

Suddenly, the world made a bit more sense. And no sense at all.

 

“You have a kid?” he asked.

 

“I have a son,” Phil answered, eyes always on Clint.

 

“I never knew.”

 

“That was the point. No one was supposed to know.”

 

Clint flipped through the papers till he found another name. A name he also knew.

 

 _Anthony Edward Stark_.

 

“You and _Tony_ have a son?”

 

And, suddenly, everything hurt. Even breathing hurt. That sonofabitch must have been laughing at him, poor Clint Barton from the circus, trying to be better husband material than goddamned billionaire, philanthropist, genius Stark –

 

“No,” Phil told him. “Tony _is_ my son.”

 

Clint held his gaze for a long, long time, not quite sure what he felt or what he was supposed to feel. Eventually, he realized that it wasn't a joke, and he looked down and read more thoroughly.

 

And, finally, he got it. “... This is an adult adoption. You adopted Tony after he became an adult.”

 

Phil nodded. “Howard Stark, for all that he was a genius and a creator, was not a good father. He was a good man in that he knew he wasn't a good father. When I was first recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D., I was assigned to Tony as a bodyguard. I felt the job was beneath me, but I soon realized that it was actually very much above me. Tony was a target for terrorist attacks, ransoms, and, on one occasion, even children pornography. Keeping him safe was the most difficult job I ever had, and helped me to become who I am today.” There was a fond, loving look in his eyes that made Clint's throat squeeze shut, keeping him from saying a single thing. “I loved him. After Howard's and Maria's death, when Tony disappeared from the public's eye, he was hiding with me. I legally adopted him without changing his surname. With Fury's backing and enough secrecy, no one ever found out that I was Tony's father, so Tony was free to pursue his inheritance without contest.”

 

“Why are you tellin' me all this?” Clint asked, but then he knew.

 

Tony had said that he'd talk to Phil about. _Phil was Tony's goddamned dad_!

 

If Clint were any less of a man, he'd start hyperventilating.

 

Phil reached across his desk and took Clint's hand in his. Breathing officially became impossible as Phil drew Clint closer and pressed a soft kiss to his bruised and scarred knuckles.

 

“I have been in love with you for so long,” Phil whispered, so lowly and so full of emotion that Clint felt heat prickling at his eyes. “And I could never give you a chance because I could never tell you the truth. When Tony came to me the other day and gave me his blessing,” Phil cleared his throat, “I... jumped at the chance. I know you haven't asked in awhile, but would you like to – ”

 

“Yes.”

 

Phil raised a cool eyebrow. “I didn't even finish asking.”

 

“You don't have to,” Clint told him. “God, yes, take me out on a date. Tell me about your crazy, motherfuckin' smart son that no one else knows about.”

 

“If this gets serious, you realize that you will become related to that 'crazy, motherfucking smart son', don't you?”

 

Clint nodded. “Bring it. Just, shit, bring it. I'll marry you right now and Tony can be our little flower boy, I don't give two fucks.” He stood up and pulled Phil to his feet as well, a hand on the back of Phil's neck so that they met halfway over the table with lips and tongues and teeth.

 

Phil was methodical and slow, even in this, and Clint groaned happily at the coffee-powdered sugar taste of Phil's mouth.

 

“I've been waitin' a long time for this,” he told Phil, words whispering against the older man's mouth. Phil's eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips. “I'm ready to be Tony's other gay dad if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

“Oh?” Phil smiled. Actually _smiled_. And then he retreated, straightening out his tie and leaving Clint leaning all by his lonesome towards him, like a flower looking for sunshine. “Then we might have a problem. My son comes first, Clint. No matter what you and I feel.” He cupped Clint's cheek and the archer leaned into his touch.

 

But Coulson only said, instead of showering him with affection, “You have to learn to love him before I'll let you put a ring on me, Agent Barton.”

 

Then he walked out, as easy as that, tossing a casual, “My place, six o'clock tomorrow,” on his way.

 

Clint just stood there, feeling and probably looking dumb.

 

Marrying Phil Coulson meant making Tony Stark his son.

 

He couldn't marry Phil Coulson till Tony Stark was his son.

 

Well, he thought blandly to himself. He wasn't off to a bad start. He liked Tony, kept him safe, gave him advice, even managed to feed him once or twice.

 

It wouldn't be easy, and it might not be possible, but Clint was going to try and be a dad to an already fully grown adult.

 

At the end of it all, at least Phil was in love with him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story completely disregards Phil Coulson's age and military history and I am not sorry for the timeline I have given. However, I am also always open to constructive criticism. 
> 
> P.S., if anyone knows how to solve the double space issue I appear to be having, any advice to be rid of it would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Have a lovely day.


End file.
